Not The Same
by oopsibrokemyree
Summary: In the aftermath of the team's exploration of the Kree city, Skye is having trouble coping with Tripp's death and struggles to control her new abilities. Eventual Age of Ultron tie-in story. Skoulson, for now.
1. Chapter 1

_She was running. Her breath came in short gasps—not because she was tired, but because she was both excited and terrified at what she would find in the temple. Somehow, her feet knew her destination. They pounded the rough stone floor of the tunnel, her steps echoing off the damp walls. Suddenly, light—and the rest of the team? Relieved, she stepped into the temple, blinking and reaching out toward Coulson, who was closest. As her hand brushed his, Coulson's calloused skin turned to dust. She looked up as his eyes turned grey. She screamed, and everything shook. _

Skye sat up in her bed, drenched in cold sweat and trembling. "Control it!" she grunted, through gritted teeth. Books flew off their shelves, dropping loudly on the floor. Skye winced as her hula girl knick knack ricocheted off of her forearm, which was coving her sticky last thing she wanted was to

_Stop it, _she thought. _I can't keep dwelling on Tripp. I killed him. I have to accept it. _She slowly rose out of her bed, stretching her tense muscles—not tense from training, but from the weight of grief on her being. Since the incident at the Kree city, Skye had retreated into her own head. She hadn't spoken to the team beyond one word answers in weeks, and had barely slept in that time. When she did fall into sleep, it was restless, and always brought her back to the city. She had seen each of her friends crumble in the temple, more times than she could count. Skye sighed heavily and rose from her bed, kneeling down to pick up the books she had knocked down. _I don't care what Fitz and Simmons think. I know I caused that earthquake. _

Suddenly, there was a frantic tapping at her pod door.

"Skye? Is everything all right in there? We heard a commotion…" came Fitz's voice, muffled through the door.

"I'm fine," Skye muttered, sliding open the door. Fitz's eyes widened as her slight frame appeared from behind the door. Her hair was stuck to her forehead at odd angles, she had dark bags under her eyes, and she had the pale, clammy complexion of someone battling influenza or a severe fever.

"Skye…please let me take you to Simmons so she can do a physical on you." Fitz pleaded with her. Skye kept her eyes on the floor.

"No." The last thing she wanted was help from Simmons. She knew that Simmons had been fond of Tripp, and had been grieving over his death over the last few weeks. Skye feel the familiar weight of guilt, pressing inside her chest. Fitz took a step forward and rested his hand on Skye's arm.

"Nobody blames you, Skye. We want to…to help you." Fitz whispered, squeezing her arm lightly. Skye couldn't bring herself to look up. She didn't think she could handle his look of concern. She didn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling away. She slid the door shut and fell back into her bed, hot tears running down her face.


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later, Skye made her way to the kitchen. Her insomnia meant that she often wandered the Bus at odd hours, but she found that the solitude was easier than facing her teammates. She rounded the counter, running her fingers along the cool granite top. Opening up one of the cupboards, she grabbed a cup of instant noodles.

"Ramen, huh? I'd have pegged you for more of a Pop Tarts kind of gal." Skye whipped around, dropping the container of noodles on the floor. Coulson was sitting at the far end of the counter with a steaming mug of tea. She dimly registered that he was in a t-shirt and sweatpants, which was definitely out of the ordinary for him. Then again, she hadn't seen him in about a week.

"Sorry, Coulson," she gasped. "Didn't see you." She crossed the room and pulled a broom from behind the door.

"Skye, wait." Coulson had followed her to the door. He reached out and took the broom. "Let me."

"Thanks." Skye stood awkwardly near the door, arms crossed and determinedly avoided Coulson's eye. He quickly swept the dry noodles off the floor and deposited them in the trash. He reached up and grabbed another noodle cup out of the cupboard and filled it up with water, and put it in the microwave.

"Sorry about your dinner…or was that breakfast? Hard to tell at this hour…" Coulson spoke normally to her, no hint of pity in his voice. She finally looked up and met his eyes. He looked like he always looked, the laugh lines around his eyes prominent in the dim light of the kitchen. Skye liked that about Coulson—he was consistent. She didn't reply. The microwave hummed as Coulson busied himself at the stove, pouring another mug of tea.

"Here. Sharing the bus with an Englishwoman and a Scot has its advantages—this tea is great." Skye lifted the mug to her lips, trying to keep the mug steady in her shaking hands. She had yet to find solace from the tremors that had wracked her body for weeks. The tea was hot and bitter, and it warmed her from the inside.

"Thanks." She took another sip, and carefully set the mug on the counter, still trembling. Coulson sighed.

"Skye, I know that you're hurting," He paused, choosing his words carefully. "There isn't anything I can say to make you feel better, but please remember that I care about you a great deal, and if you want to talk, I'm here." Skye felt eyes burning, and before she could turn and run away, Coulson took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. She collapsed against him, sobbing into his shirt as he held her. She vaguely felt his warm breath near her ear as he murmured comforting words into her ear.

"I'm s-sorry" she sobbed. "I can't believe he's gone. It's my fault." Coulson pushed her away slightly so he could see her face, gently reaching up and cupping her jaw with his hand. It was rough, just as it felt in her dream.

"Listen to me: Trip's death is NOT your fault."

"I k-keep seeing him. And Fitz, and Simmons and…you. You all die down there, and I can't save any of you. I don't even know who I am anymore." Skye felt Coulson's thumb ghosting across her cheekbone, keeping her steady. Even now, when she closed her eyes, she saw Trip's grey, lifeless stare and petrified body crumble away into dust. The same image had haunted her for weeks. She looked up, surprised to see her own pain reflected in Coulson's eyes.

"Skye, after T.A.H.I.T.I., I had no idea who I was…to be honest, I still don't know. We've got to figure out where to go from here." Coulson dropped his hand to his side. "I don't know what happened to you in that temple, but we'll figure it out as a team…like we always do." Skye took a step back. Her tremors calm for the moment, she sheepishly looked at Coulson, who was watching her intently.

"Thanks, AC," she whispered. "I'm gonna go now…"

"Skye."

"Yeah?"

"You forgot your noodles."

"…thanks."


	3. Chapter 3

As she entered the briefing room, she found the rest of the team (minus Simmons) already assembled. Skye couldn't help noticing everyone determinedly avoiding her eye…except Coulson, who gave her an encouraging sort of smile. She nodded in return, keeping her hands clenched firmly in her pockets.

"Is everyone okay?" Coulson began. "There was a minor earthquake a few minutes ago…rare for the Scottish highlands, but here we are—"

"Our systems have been showing increased seismic activity in three of the four hemispheres since we left Puerto Rico," Fitz interjected. "Based on the varied strength of the earthquakes, combined with their distance from known active fault lines, we think that the cause of these quakes may not be—"

"Natural." Simmons had arrived, wrapping a bandage around her hand. "Sorry I'm late—cut myself cleaning up broken glass." Fitz hurried over to assist with the dressing. Skye was glad to see that the pair had seem to have made up after their near-death experience in Puerto Rico. Simmons caught her eye, and quickly looked away as Skye felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over her body. She knew that Simmons had been particularly fond of Trip, and had taken his loss harder than most of the team. The ground trembled again, knocking everyone (except May) off-balance.

"Aftershock," Coulson said thoughtfully. "Remind me to review emergency protocol sometime this week. We're going to be here a while."

"Where exactly is 'here?'" Mack inquired, leaning on the other end of the table.

"About 10 miles south of Cape Wrath—a lighthouse, and a cafe. The lighthouse is a S.H.I.E.L.D. base. The technology in the base is obsolete, but S.H.I.E.L.D. abandoned the base rather than spending the money to update it."

"What's the plan while we're here?" May said, her steely gaze fixed upon Coulson.

"We lie low for a while. See what Hydra's next move will be. Gather supplies. Keep our ear to the ground for anything unnatural."

"Well, that shouldn't be too difficult," Fitz said, sighing heavily. "We sure do attract the weird stuff."

Skye gulped as another aftershock rumbled the plane.

Hours later, an eerie silence lay over the base. Skye sat up in her newly assigned bed, unable to sleep. Pulling on a hoodie and forgoing her shoes, she padded down to the common room, where the fire was smoldering in its grate. She sank onto the couch and curled up, grabbing a magazine from the coffee table, smirking in spite of herself—it was a People magazine from 1999, the cover graced by none other than N*SYNC. Flipping through it aimlessly, she couldn't keep her thoughts from wandering to the day's briefing…the earthquake, the increased seismic activity…it seemed like a crazy, absolutely insane notion, but could a person really be causing it? If a billionaire could construct a metal suit and fly around New York, or a meek scientist could turn into a green rage monster, surely being exposed to an alien object could give someone this…power? Curse? Her father had called it a gift…

Skye involuntarily shuddered at the thought of her father.

"Front row center at the strangest show on earth…" she said quietly, tossing the magazine aside. Another aftershock rumbled through the base, rattling the glasses in the kitchenette behind her.

"I was always more of a Backstreet Boys fan, myself." Coulson's voice came from the other side of the room. "Care if I join you? I brought hot chocolate." Skye shook her head, and he handed her the mug, and then unceremoniously plopped down on the couch beside her. They sat in silence for several minutes, until Skye looked up to see Coulson watching her.

"What?"

"I can see your gears turning, Skye…what's on your mind?" Skye shrugged, looking down at the frayed cuffs of her sweatshirt, her hot chocolate untouched. She gently set the mug on the coffee table, and still avoiding his gaze, paused to pull at a stray thread. A warm, rough hand covered hers, and she looked up and met Coulson's eyes.

"Talk to me, Skye." There was something about Coulson's demeanor that was calming. She took a deep breath, and shyly squeezed his hand, before speaking.

"I think I know what the cause of these earthquakes is," she said in a rush. "I think I'm causing them." Coulson stared at her, but didn't pull his hand away. He squeezed her hand gently, silently telling her to go on.

"In the Kree city…when it collapsed…I could _feel _the vibrations inside my body. It felt like my veins were on fire. When I thought I was dead inside that shell, all I could think of was the team, and how I hoped you all were safe. None of you were hurt…there's no way the debris could have missed all of us by chance." Skye looked up at Coulson, who was now gazing thoughtfully at their joined hands.

"Your hands have been shaky for weeks…I thought it was post-traumatic stress from the earthquake, but that doesn't make sense because you weren't hurt…"

"And this morning—I was in the shower and dropped the shampoo because my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I got really pissed about it, and the earthquake started. I don't believe in coincidence, Coulson. I know it's me." Skye abruptly pulled her hand away from Coulson's, burying her face in her crossed arms. She heard a clattering at the table, and then a crash, followed by the sensation of warm liquid. She looked over at Coulson, who was staring at her with a bewildered look, dripping in hot chocolate. Looking around her, she noted that the shards of porcelain from the cup surrounded her, but miraculously, didn't hit her.

"Was that…you?" He asked cautiously.

"I can't control it," Skye whispered, attempting to calm herself by taking deep breaths. Coulson crossed the room, grabbing a towel from a drawer near the coffee maker. He quickly wiped his face, then went back to Skye and handed her the towel.

"Are you okay? Did you get cut?" She shook her head.

"Nah, just got a little sticky." Coulson grinned.

"That's the first time you've sounded like you in a long time." Skye sheepishly looked up at him.

"You seem pretty unshaken by the fact that I could bring this building down in about three seconds if I happen to miss my morning coffee." Coulson laughed heartily.

"Skye…I've seen some stuff. Weird stuff. It takes more than that to surprise me." She gave him a hint of a grin, before retreating back into her shell. She suddenly looked worried.

"What am I gonna do?" Coulson looked at her thoughtfully before answering.

"I think I know someone who can help."


End file.
